Broken Wings
by Palmviolet
Summary: After Stefan's betrayal, Maleficent struggles to cope with the loss of her great power. Oneshot. Sad, short and angsty.


**Ok, so I saw this film today and was totally obsessed. I cried a lot, ok, don't judge. **

**This is a oneshot, set just after when Stefan steals Maleficent's wings. (one of the most heartbreaking moments I have ever witnessed.) it's about her dealing with it. So yeah. Enjoy.**

The first thing she was aware of when she woke was the terrible pain. Agony so great it made her want to curl up and die, a cold chill that sent shivers down her spine. She noticed it was concentrated on her back - strange, she mused. Perhaps there was something wrong with her wings?

She slowly sat up, groaning and wincing. Then suddenly she noticed the absence of that familiar weight on her back, the lack of the powerful feathers feeling every draught and upbeat.

She reached up her hand fearfully, feeling for the familiar soft feathers, the strong wings. None.

It took a moment for the awful truth to sink in, but when it hit her she doubled over. She screamed, a terrible, mournful scream. No more soaring through the skies, out of the reach of anyone. She screamed in pure agony, pain and betrayal. No more.

Stefan would pay. Oh yes, he would have his glorious throne. He would have his beautiful wife, his lovely daughter. But she would come for him.

"Maleficent!" Someone shrieked. She turned slowly, painfully, to see one of the water sprites watching her fearfully. "What-what-"

She shook her head sadly with a wince. "You poor thing," the fair sprite whispered. "Come with me."

Maleficent shifted painfully, and then cried out, losing her balance and falling to the ground. The sprite whistled quietly, and a wood sprite appeared behind her. The latter smiled sadly, and stepped over to Maleficent, light as a feather.

"Lean on me," she said, kneeling down beside the wounded faerie. Maleficent got to her knees with a grimace, leaning heavily on the sprite. "That's it. Nearly there," the wood faerie coaxed softly. Maleficent didn't have the strength to scowl. She disliked being so weak and helpless. She was a proud creature by nature and having to rely on someone other than herself disagreed with her immensely. However without aid she would collapse again, disgracing herself, and wounding her pride even more.

The sprite helped Maleficent to her feet, staring in horror at her back. The wounded faerie frowned, and touched her fingers to her back, gasping as they came back sticky with the silvery-red blood of the fey kind. She swayed, her vision dipping, repulsed by her own squeamishness.

"Maleficent! Maleficent!" She could hear people calling her name faintly, a muffled sound, as if from far away. She felt herself being lifted up gently, being carried somewhere, the slow, rhythmic movement of the person's stride lulling her into a light and uneasy sleep. Her last thought before she succumbed to the welcoming, pain-free darkness was of her revenge. She would have it. Stefan would pay dearly.

When she woke, she was alone. She was glad of that. She was glad that no one was around to witness her weakness.

The pain had lessened considerably- all she felt now was numbness and weakness.

She sat up carefully, noticing how much strength it took to move. As she tried to stand, she couldn't help the cry that escaped her lips, and fell to her knees. Inwardly cursing her weakness, she glanced around for aid. Her gaze fell upon two broken halves of a stick. Slowly, she reached down and grasped it in her hand, pouring magic into it and watching it transform into a long and elegant staff.

Then, leaning heavily on her new staff, she struggled to her feet, cursing Stefan in every name and language she could think of. Oh, she had been so naïve to trust him. She had forgiven him so quickly, and look where it had gotten her. She supposed she was lucky not to have been killed to settle his lust for power. Ha. Lucky? Nay. She would rather die than live without her beautiful, strong, powerful wings...

She stumbled, collapsing to the ground and lying there for a moment. What was the use? She could just simply lie there forever and die. No one would care. No one would notice. And what use was she protecting the fey realm, without her wings?

But she pulled herself together. She would exact her revenge on Stefan, and then she could collapse and die. But only then.


End file.
